


A Light in the Dark

by AislinMarue



Series: Destiel - Castiel/Dean Winchester [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislinMarue/pseuds/AislinMarue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Metatron's betrayal, Castiel finds himself struggling to find a solution to his 'human problem.' If he actually stops to look around him, however, he'll find that help is closer than he realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> My first Destiel fanfic. I've been wanting to write Destiel for months now and Sacrifice was just the episode to kick start me writing something for this fandom. I really hope you guys enjoy it. Thank you for reading!

Streaks of fire were still lighting up the night sky, Castiel’s heart plummeting just as his brothers and sisters did to the Earth below. So many sensations assaulted him at once, both physically and emotionally. It was hard to make sense of any of it. The only thing he could focus on aside from the painful clenching in his chest as he watched his brethren streak toward the ground below were the tears coursing steadily down his cheeks.

Where had everything gone so wrong? When had all of his good intentions been swept by the wayside only to result in such a terrible outcome? He’d only wanted to help, to atone for his crimes, but even his attempts to right those wrongs had failed so horribly. Now he was left alone in the cool night air, watching his family suffer for his actions. All because he’d been stupid and hopeful enough to let himself be tricked by someone he thought he could trust.

Now nothing would ever be the same again. Angels were no more, left to live or die as humans. Would they wonder who was responsible for their fate? Would they seek revenge once they discovered his part in their fall from grace? As the wind billowed gently through his hair and coat, drying the tears on his cheeks, Castiel wasn’t entirely certain he would defend himself if they sought that revenge.

Castiel had been a soldier for millennia. He knew how to fight, but being without his grace, his power, would mean having to adjust to his more fragile state of being should he find himself in an altercation. As the last of the angels fell from the sky, an ache settled within him as he recalled Dean’s words to him. That without his power he was just a ‘baby in a trenchcoat.’ The former angel lowered his head, eyes closed tightly. Useless. He was useless to anyone this way. He couldn’t help Sam or Dean. He couldn’t even help himself.

Cas opened his eyes when his thoughts were interrupted at the sound of something crashing through the brush behind him. The voice he heard seconds later filled him with both immense relief and shame at the same time, his heart lodging itself firmly in his throat and making him unable to call out a response. “Cas!”

The hunter entered the clearing shortly after, stopping short when he saw the fallen angel standing there, his trenchcoat-clad back facing Dean. “Cas. Thank God.” Steps came after that, hands resting on Castiel’s shoulder to turn him around. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

Castiel still found himself incapable of speech, even trying to swallow around the lump in his throat to no avail. Dean’s green eyes were looking him over, searching for any apparent injury or harm, but he breathed a relieved sigh when he found nothing. “Hey,” the hunter said quietly, looking into the former angel’s dark blue eyes, “you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

How could he ever possibly be okay again? Cas shook his head slightly in answer to both questions, Dean’s hands remaining firmly on his shoulders, though still, the words would not come. 

Dean’s brow furrowed at his friend’s silence, hands lifting from his shoulders to frame Castiel’s face, peering into his eyes closely. “Cas. C’mon, man, talk to me.”

Castiel felt that warm wetness once more on his face, but didn’t bother to lift a hand to wipe the tears away. “You were right,” he whispered hoarsely, voice lower and rougher than usual, catching slightly on his words, “I’m just a baby in a trenchcoat now.”

The hunter’s jaw dropped slightly, his concerns having been confirmed with that statement that Castiel was indeed fallen and human just as the rest of the angels were. Those words also made it clear to Dean that the Winchesters were going to have their hands full, the road to recovery for their angel a long and difficult one ahead. The elder Winchester shifted, wrapping one arm around Castiel’s shoulders to guide him back the way he’d come, back to Sam and the Impala. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

~*~*~*~*~

The weeks that followed were filled with frustration for Dean. Two weeks after bringing Castiel back to the bunker with Sam, the hunter found himself caring not only for his brother as he recovered from his ordeal with the trials, but teaching Castiel to be human as well. The fallen angel had barely said anything at all to anyone over those two weeks, choosing to remain in his room, only coming out to use the restroom or eat when Dean had to remind him.

Castiel was much paler, with dark circles under his eyes, his thin frame too small for the old clothing Dean and Sam had given him to wear. He would have appreciated the ingeniousness of belts if he could have been bothered to. Instead, he shuffled through his new life silently, following Dean’s instructions when given such as “Cas, you reek, man, hit the shower” or “Cas, you look like a homeless dude, go shave.” 

He hated it. He loathed having to sleep, to eat, to use the restroom. With sleeping came nightmares. With eating came an upset stomach. With using the restroom, well... Castiel didn’t even like to think about it until the need to actually do so arose. He hated all of it. Especially the weakness, not being able to aid the Winchesters if they needed him. Sam had mentioned the possibility of teaching him how to use a handgun and Kevin had offered to show him ways he could help with research. Each time, Castiel had given a non-committal answer and wandered back into his room.

Most nights found the fallen angel sitting on the floor of his room at the foot of his bed, dark head lowered with his blue eyes closed. He didn’t want to learn human methods of protection and defense even though part of him knew it would be prudent to do so since he was, in fact, a human being now. What he really wanted was his grace back or at the very least some form of power that would make him more useful to the Winchesters so that he wasn’t just a poor, freeloading excuse of a man to them. Most of the time spent sitting awake at the foot of his bed was time spent scrambling to come up with any sort of solution to fix his current situation and each night, he came up with nothing.

Tonight was no different for Castiel. He glanced up at the clock on his bedside table and saw that it was just after three in the morning. The Winchesters and Kevin were most likely asleep by this point. He hadn’t seen or heard anything from them since Dean had dragged him out of his room for food earlier that evening. Another night spent in silent contemplation and still coming up with absolutely nothing.

Castiel sighed, leaning his head back against the footboard of his bed, longer hair tickling the nape of his neck with his movements. Heaven had no answers since Metatron had locked the doors up tightly behind the angels after kicking them out of their home. He briefly considered researching various forms of witchcraft but quickly discarded that train of thought. Witchcraft often involved too high a price in return for the sort of power he sought to wield. He wasn’t willing to kill anyone to achieve his goal. That was not negotiable.

Blinking, Castiel sat up quickly, back leaving the footboard. Negotiable. That... That could work. Before he knew it, he was on his feet, facing the door to his bedroom. But... What about Dean? Could he travel down a similar path as the one that had led to Purgatory and the Leviathans? He knew Dean would never condone such things, let alone for a second time. Dean would never approve of him making another deal with the devil. Crowley was no longer in power and Castiel had no way of knowing who was, though he suspected Abaddon. Would the demons even be willing to work with him again after the last time?

The hang up was still Dean. The elder Winchester and he had gone through such a rough patch over his actions with Crowley during the war in Heaven. Dean’s anger and betrayal had been worn on the hunter’s shoulders like Castiel wore his trenchcoat, constantly there. His heart ached fiercely at the thought of doing that to Dean again and he found himself shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. Castiel found himself torn. Betray Dean, again, but somehow gain the power to keep him safe or continue as he was, weak and powerless, dependent on others for his survival? He knew dealing with a demon would likely end with a one way ticket to the Pit given he was no longer an angel. He didn’t care about that. All he cared about was Dean’s health and well-being along with Sam and Kevin’s by extension.

Castiel closed his eyes tightly, hands fisting in the dark strands of his hair, knuckles white with how hard his fingers clenched. The slight pain from the action helped a bit in getting him to focus, to not let his thoughts run away with him, though he was still torn between sneaking out and trying to contact a crossroads demon or lingering where he was and trying to find another solution to his human problem.

The man looked up quickly at the quiet knock on the door, calling out a quiet “Come in” before he could think better of it.

The door opened silently and Dean stepped into the room, looking awkward as his bowed legs took shuffling steps inside before closing the door behind him. “Hey, uh. Saw your light on when I went to hit the head. Figured I’d...see if you needed anything or something.”

Despite the hurt and confusion, the despair that had been creeping up on Castiel the entire night, the fallen angel felt a warmth in his chest at Dean’s words. He shook his head in response, however, averting his gaze from the hunter. “No. Thank you, Dean.”

He heard Dean breathe a quiet sigh, moving a little closer to the bed, clad in an old Metallica t-shirt and faded sweatpants. “Cas, look...” Dean began then sighed once more. He’d never been good at heart-to-heart talks, everyone knew that. That was more Sam’s area of expertise. But this was Cas and Dean felt he had to give it a try. Anything to help save the fallen angel from himself. “Listen, I know this has been really shitty for you,” Dean continued, moving to sit gingerly down on the edge of the bed beside Castiel.

Castiel’s incredulous look made the hunter shake his head, even though the angel hadn’t turned his gaze to Dean. “Okay, really shitty. I know. I can’t claim to understand what you’re goin’ through, man, but you gotta work with me here. I want to help, but I don’t know how. All I’ve wanted to do since we brought you home was show you that, yeah, being human can really fucking suck, but there are some good points to it too. You’re walking around the bunker like a fucking zombie, Cas. If I didn’t remind you to eat every day I think you’d just let yourself waste away...” 

Dean’s voice trailed off as he shifted closer still to Castiel, left arm lifting to rest around the other man’s shoulders. Still, Castiel wouldn’t meet his gaze, blue eyes looking steadily at the floor, but he could tell Dean’s words were difficult to say, the hunter’s voice an even rougher murmur than usual with the weight of his emotions despite his efforts to hide them. “I told you I needed you, Cas. I meant it. I’m sorry for the ‘baby in a trenchcoat’ thing. It was a dick move on my part and I’m man enough to admit it. If you’ll let me, I want to help you through this. Please...”

It was the quietly whispered plea that had Castiel’s gaze straying to Dean’s at last. Blue eyes met green and the world itself seemed to shift. Those eyes, that man would always be his undoing and Castiel should have made peace with that years ago, from the moment he’d pulled that shining soul out of the Pit and restored him to life. “Dean...”

Dean’s eyes were damp in the low light of Castiel’s room, his arm lingering strong and warm around Castiel’s slender frame. “Cas, please...” he murmured again, his free hand lifting to Castiel’s cheek, “please, I can’t lose you again. I forgive you. If that’s what you need then damnit, I forgive you, but please just let me help you.”

His eyes closed as Castiel leaned into the warmth of the hunter’s touch, breath catching in his chest as he listened to Dean speak. His hand rose, fingers closing gently around Dean’s wrist as his own eyes grew damp beneath their lids. How... How could he have ever, even for one single second contemplated going behind the hunter’s back again? No matter how good his intentions may have been, hadn’t he learned that such actions only ended in heartbreak for those involved? He leaned closer to Dean, forehead resting against the other man’s gently. “Help me...” he whispered brokenly, “please, help me...”

It was a step and, judging by the choked sound from Dean, the arms wrapping firmly around him to pull him close, it was the right one. “Whatever you need, Cas,” Dean whispered, hand rising to cradle the back of Cas’ head.

Castiel turned his head to press his face into Dean’s neck, his own arms winding tightly around the hunter, clinging as if Dean were his lifeline. And in that moment, Castiel realized that he truly was.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed my story! If you did, please consider buying me a ko-fi? My family and I could really use the help.
> 
> ko-fi.com/AislinMarue


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